


Red

by Heather



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-29
Updated: 2007-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather/pseuds/Heather





	Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stoney321](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Stoney321).



  
She really stands out in a crowd.

It's not just because she wore red--bright red, to a funeral; people are talking--or because she keeps loudly humming nursery rhymes in a way that draws far too much attention to herself. It's not even because she's a grown woman, standing there, holding a doll.

Something about her makes the hairs rise on the back of Connor's neck. Something about her makes his blood tingle. He knows, without knowing how he knows, that she's in some way important to him.

She's connected to Angel. That much is obvious. She turned up for a nighttime memorial over the remains of Wolfram and Hart and somehow managed to get herself a seat up front, something Connor himself didn't even try to do, and she's...off, somehow. Just terribly off and Connor's sure he could put his finger on how if only whatever it is she sets off in his veins would just stop humming along with her for a minute.

He watches her for a long time, largely ignoring the weepy, droning eulogy of some woman he doesn't recognize--Eve something. The doll-bearing woman is wearing a bright red veil and he's sure that if he could catch her somehow with it moved out of her face, he'd be able to place her. But it never moves an inch, even as he watches the fabric darken with tears.

After the memorial's over, he loosens his tie, drifts away from his family and chances approaching her. It's then he learns that she must sense him the same way he senses her, because she turns to face him and lifts off the veil.

Connor is disappointed to discover he doesn't recognize her, but he does at least know why her presence nibbles at him so; she's a vampire. "Hello." He says cautiously, wondering for a moment if she's a good vampire, or if Angel's the only one. Was the only one.

"My boys are all gone." She says, without any preamble of friendly small-talk. "Daddy and my bright knight...all gone."

Connor chews his lower lip. "I'm sorry." He offers lamely.

"They were your boys, too." She replies. "I can see them inside your head. Inside your blood." She seems to forget her sadness instantly, giving him a bright, childlike smile. "You're one like us."

"No." Connor says, with a shake of his head. "I'm not--" He lowers his voice before finishing the sentence. "--I'm not a vampire."

"Don't need to be." She says with an inappropriate giggle. "You were born with it."

Connor startles, then stares. "Who told you that?"

She smiles shyly, then crooks her finger in a beckon. Against every instinct he has screaming that it's a bad idea, he leans in obligingly. She leans foward, too, brushing his hair away from his ear before whispering into it, "You did." She bursts out laughing when Connor jerks back and regards her with confused fear.

"Who are you?" He asks, not troubling to keep the wariness out of his voice.

"Oh, so much to tell you." She says, swaying slightly and hugging her doll to her chest. "So much you're too broken and pasted back together to remember. But I can see the cracks...little baby Humpty-Dumpty."

Connor feels deeply out of his element, even as he pieces together everything she's said and starts to get an inkling of the whole picture. "We're related." He says, surprised at his own certainty.

"Oh, yes." She says breathily, looking pleased that he caught on so quickly. "Many times yes."

Connor bites his lip, sure he doesn't want to know the answer when he asks, "Who was Daddy?"

She smiles. "My Angel."

Connor feels slightly sick. "You're...my sister."

"You're my family." She says in a sad sing-song. "They're all dead now, all gone away. But you're here. You'll be my boy, won't you? Hmm?" She fixes him with wide blue eyes, her expression childlike once more, with a touch of pleading. "I'm so alone...so alone now and we should be family."

"I need to go." Connor says and starts to turn away from her.

But then she's collapsing on the sidewalk, pulling at her hair and her veil and wildly shaking her doll. "No, no! All gone away! 'Leave him alone, Drusilla, he's not for you!' Daddy will be so angry!" She loudly begins to sob and continues tearing at herself, raking dagger-sharp nails across her cheeks to bring up deep lines of bright red blood.

"Jesus." Connor cries, automatically jumping to her side to grab her wrists. People--his parents included--are beginning to stare.

"Don't leave me all alone." She cries tragically. "Don't go away."

"I won't, I won't!" Connor says, maintaining an iron grip on her arms to keep her from doing herself further injury. The drawback to this is that it opens him up for her to bury her face in his shoulder and wail. "It's okay." He murmurs uncertainly, holding her and wishing to God that he wasn't.

"You won't go." She says, this time less like a question and more like a command as she draws back and stares at him, sniffling and darting her tongue out to lick at her tears.

"I won't go." Connor repeats. Anything to keep her from hurting herself further.

"You'll be my boy." She says, the pleading note back in her voice.

Connor hesitates. "We'll see."

"Of course." She says, smiling through her tears. "We'll always see....always, always..."

Connor stares at her uneasily and wonders what he's gotten himself into.


End file.
